Unmasked
by Elle S Goudie
Summary: In a world run by fate, ten girls' fate is undetermined by the universe. A mysterious Prince rules over the Kingdom of Aeneas, but he is controlled by a higher power and is forced into a Selection where ten fateless girls may fight for his love. However, so much stands between this Prince and the love he desires. Will he be able to conquer Fate and find love? 10/10 SYOC CLOSED!
1. Prologue: Four Colours, Four Fates

Far away from any modern civilization, there is a hidden land. Covered by fog and mist, surrounded by frozen seas lurking with dangerous monsters, and veiled by reigning mountains in a ring around all population, there stands the proud land of Caexus. In the midst of the raging heights of the great, snowy mountains lay the small Kingdom of Aeneas. This Kingdom was ruled by the good King Admetas Maretze and his wife, Queen Alcestis.

This island was like any other, with good people who obeyed the rules of their monarchy, and a royal family adored by all. However, Caexus had a special connection to the mythical knowledge of the world. The rest of the world was ruled secretly by a force above, and they were unknowingly following the destiny set for them by fate itself. The Kingdom of Aeneas, however, could directly contact fate, as the Fates walked among them.

For centuries, three beautiful women ruled over the land, and while the people praised the royalty, the royalty praised the Fates. These three women took care of the thread the people of Aeneas called life. Every string of the people on Caexus was hidden deep in a mountain, a place only know by the Fates. It was a secret place never to be eyed by human gaze, for if it should the Fates would have to take their business elsewhere, leaving the people of Aeneas without lead and direct aid. The people looked to the Fates as if they were Gods. In reality, they were. Each had their own duty, and their own name. As a whole, they were typically referred to as the Parcae, but each woman was so different from the other. Nona was named Nina by the royal Maretze family, and her duty in the name of fate was to spin the Thread of Life that each person metaphorically wielded. Decuma, or Daniella as named to appear more human, measured the Thread, and controlled the storage in the mountain. Daniella was more connected with the people, and was the main source of communication between the people and the Parcae. Morta, on the other hand, was the one to cut the Thread when the human's life was decided complete. Fulfilled or not, it was their time.

Sometimes the people grew angry at the Parcae for killing their loved ones, but the Parcae worked according to the laws of the universe, and when time came, they could do nothing but comply. However, when someone was killed by the hand of another, it ruined the plan the Fates had created for those lives involved. Murder had always been a crime, but soon homicide was not the only thing creating a problem for fate. Suicide grew to be a concern of those in love with the idea of fate taking its course. It was made a crime to tamper with the fate of anyone's life, including one's self. If any person in a family committed any act towards fate's demise, the name of said family would be shunned for eternity.

But the Parcae were old. Centuries, millenniums old –– They were in need of help. So, around two centuries before King Admetus was crowned, the Parcae created a new race of Fates. They found three young men whose fate could no be seen by the rulers of all fate. This trait was rare, but it gave possibility to wondrous, adventurous, and diverse lives. So they took these men and trained them to become the next race of Fates when they were gone. It would take centuries to ready them for the position they were to withhold, and they were almost ready when something terrible happened.

The three trainees made a name for themselves, calling their little group the Moirai, a new race of Fates that would supposedly be better than the last. They told the royal family that the Parcae had changed the fate of the King and Queen, claiming that the couple would never produce an heir. The Queen was devastated, and for his wife, the King threatened to banish the Parcae to remain in the dungeons of the palace for all of eternity. When the Parcae denied this act, the King cast them away, throwing guards at them to capture them to be placed in the dungeons.

But the Parcae escaped, fleeing to the Cave of Life, their secret cave in the mountains where their threads lie. They stayed there, away from the kingdom where they would be harmed and attacked if ever seen, but they stayed away in remorse. They wished they could have done more for their dear kingdom.

Then the Moirai lurked over Aeneas, without the restraints of the Parcae. But they had done more evil than could have ever been done before in the history of the Fates. They had lied to the King and Queen when they told them that the Queen was infertile, and when the Parcae were finally out of the way they told the Royals that they had returned their fertility. Soon after, they had a son. The Prince would grow to be the heir of the throne, taking over his father's work and learning all he needed to know about the history of his dear kingdom. But soon after he was born, a fire devastated the palace, killing hundreds of castle staff and the boy's parent's, too. The Moirai took on the job raising the child, teaching him everything he needed to know about how to become the perfect King. For the time being, the Moirai ruled over Aeneas as they raised the little prince, but they hid him from the public and the kingdom in its entirety. No one knew his name, his face, or the colour of his eyes. Not a single person other than the Moirai knew him at all, but there were a few exceptions ...

The Parcae would meet him in secret, sending him secret letters to tell him to find them in places around the kingdom's edge––they knew that the Moirai would come after them if they neared the Prince with their knowledge. He would meet them in the Cave of Life whenever they had to teach him something, because there was one thing that the Parcae knew about the royal bloodline that the Moiarai did not.

One of the Parcae, Daniella, had made a terrible mistake when the Kingdom of Aeneas had just begun to bloom. Centuries before, she had engaged in a sexual relation with a human male and produced an offspring: half Fate, half human. This child was deemed the beginning of the royal bloodline, beginning centuries of prosperity for the kingdom and it's people. However, the crossbreed of a Fate and a human meant altered power. This offspring was more connected to fate than any human, and not only could he see the Threads of Life and understand how they worked without ever being taught, but he had ever power the same as the Fates. He could do whatever he liked, but it was moderated by the fates themselves. He would change fate for those who could pay, and while the Parcae did not like what the halfblood was doing they let it take its course because they foresaw that it would not do much harm. It ended well, and years later, things began to change.

Over time the bloodline was diluted, and the blood of Fate took up a sliver of the percentage in the blood of the current Prince. But that was unknown to the Moirai. Now, people of the royal bloodline have only the strong power to do one specific thing. They could switch fates with a person of their choosing. It would change the course of history during the life of the two participating in the swap, and no other person would ever know anything other than the result. But the Fates always knew. The Moirai, on the other hand ...

The Moirai had no idea this had ever happened. They didn't know the power this new prince had within him, and neither would he have if the Parcae had not taught him. In reality, the Parcae were the ones who brought him up to become a Prince. They helped him hide his identity from the public, spreading rumours of what he looked like and starting wildfires of where he would be so he could escape and see the kingdom sometimes when he wanted to. They acted as his mothers, the good people in his life, while the Moirai tried to force him to follow theirs rules so they could control the entire kingdom behind his back. But he was aware of it thanks to the Parcae. He was aware and even though he was completely naive, the Parcae helped him grow a strong mind so he could be even slightly in control.

But the Moirai were growing worrisome that the Prince would fall away from their influence, and while unaware of the Parcae's own contribution to his minimal actions, they made a quick decision to force more control onto his life.

The Moirai decided to host a competition, but they wanted to find participants that would work for the result. They contacted the Parcae, asking for their aid as there were a few things their power did not extend to, while the Parcae's power was limitless. They asked the Parcae to find women in the kingdom whose fates were undetermined. It was a rare trait, but a select few had fates that were unseen by any race of Fate: Parcae or Moirai. So these women were to be brought into the palace and participate in a time-old competition.

A Selection. These women would fight for the heart of the Prince, but there was an exception ... The Parcae's wanted to give some kind of control to fate itself, rather than having control taken over by the Moirai. So the original Fates bargained with their mirrored race, coming to a final conclusion to their plan. They would host the selection, but this was to force fate to find one of these girls and the Prince together as a result. So, each person would wear a mask, covering most of their face save for their eyes, to prevent their identity and outer beauty from affecting the factors towards whether or not love forms. The Moirai came up with an extra idea, too. They wanted to add their own evil flair to the competition, so they made a final decision, thanked the Parcae for their aid, and hid the three women in the dungeons in case they needed help at any point in time with power they didn't have access to. Of course, the women could easily leave the dungeons, but they could not allow the Moirai to have access to such knowledge. They hid too much from them that if they were caught with one hidden secret, they feared all would be released.

The Moirai were three men. The Parcae had given them names according to their original names. Atticus was called Atropos, Claude was called Clotho, and Lawrence was called Lachesis. These three men dressed themselves in dark cloaks, hiding themselves and proposing mystery in their appearance to the public. They were in control, and they made that clear on many occasions, but they stole the power over the kingdom from the Parcae. They took over, and death was their main focus. Their decision regarding the coming Selection was that there would be three other men who looked much similar to the Prince himself. Each man had different colour eyes, but only the two races of Fates and the four men knew who was who. These four men would be called the Fier. In addition to that ... If any woman fell for a man that was not the Prince, they would be killed––their string cut in two. The Moirai confiscated the strings of each girl chosen, each string was the same ... Undetermined and shimmering with opportunity.

* * *

A man stood in front of a mirror, staring at his reflection. His eyes grazed over the neat grey suit he wore, given to him by one of his mentors. However, he did recall photographs of his late father wearing this suit. It had been for formal parties held by the Aeneas palace years ago when he himself was just a babe. That was all before his parents were killed in the fire.

The Prince was nervous. He did not feel as if this Selection was going to solve anything. He knew it would only make the hatred between the Moirai and the Parcae stronger, and perhaps even allow the Moirai to grow in power. And meeting so many girls without seeing their faces? He understood the point to that factor, but he was still nervous about meeting women whose faces he could not see. Why didn't they let the girls have plain faces and the Fier have masks? And what was up with that name––the Fier?

"Your Highness." A voice caught his attention, and he looked behind him in the reflection of the mirror. A smile flashed across his pale lips and he turned, facing his company.

"Dani." He greeted the second Parcae, Decuma. She had been the closest to him throughout all he had endured, and while the other two had been equally by his side, he felt as if Daniella provided a more maternal warmth. "What are you doing here? The Moirai are probably going to come and get me at any moment."

She pushed towards him, every movement with grace and poise as if her feet never even touched the ground beneath the flowing silk of her white gown. Placing a hand on his cheek, she offered him a kind smile. "My son," she whispered, a name she had given him that he had accepted. The young Prince had not known his parents, only seen photographs of their smiles and the ways they held him so dearly. He knew that they loved him, but the love that had been lost with their lives was given now by the presence of Daniella. His fragile heart was not able to understand why she loved him so dearly as her own son, but he accepted it because it was the only true source he ever felt of such an emotion. "You are afraid of them, I know that. But please, if you do not bide by their rules, you will fall as your parents have."

His brow furrowed, as it had many times before when she mentioned his parents' demise in the wake of the Moirai. "Please tell me what you truly believe happened."

Daniella backed away, hands by her side as she shot a glance towards the door. "They are coming. I can feel their presence looming." Her voice shook, and she looked back to the Prince, eyes intense with anxiety and anticipation. "You must call us at any time, whenever you need assistance of any kind. Do not be afraid of us, but continue to fear them. Please understand that they are not good. We are good, my son––you are good." She rushed to him, holding his face in her hands as his fearful eyes stared back into hers. His heart raced under his fingers, and she knew that the Prince too could feel the oncoming presence of the Moirai. "You know the other three men. You know who they are, and I know you don't like that they were the ones chosen, but it is for your own good. I promise you, even though I cannot see what will happen in the future I will do whatever I can to protect you and your fate. Those girls ... They are unpredictable. Their fates cannot be seen right now but the moment I can see something I will tell you."

It only took a single blink for her to disappear, and the door swung open, revealing three men in dark hoods. The Moirai.

The Prince stood straight, allowing his body to face them completely. Behind his back he lays his hands, and on his face he put a smile. The men soon surrounded him, taunting him with their words, seemingly concerned but he knew they cared none. "Are you prepared to meet these ladies, Sir?"

"Yes," he responded, and they turned, leading him from the room. Before he found his way out the door, he picked up a sleek black mask, decorated with nothing but a glaze to shimmer in the light. Pulled it over his face he marched from his chambers, and closed the door behind him. Outside stood three men bearing the exact same mask he did. He knew who these men were, he even knew one personally.

The first was a guard, taken from his position protecting a prisoner's cell to ensure his escape never came. The second, a servant to the Prince himself, one that had been there for his majesty for years on end. The third man was not good ... A convicted criminal for the worst crime ever to be committed in a world like this. These three men were to act as if they were no one, as the Prince was to do also.

But each were given a nickname––that applied to their ideals––to keep their identity quite safe, but the one thing that kept them separate by visual was the colour of their eyes. The man with blue eyes took the name Zelos, the man with the green eyes took the name Eleos, with the brown eyes was a man called Aidos, and behind gold eyes was Anteros.

These men made up the Fier, the group of men set out to aid the fate of the future King and his unfound Queen. They were all prepared, but each had their secrets to carry with them into the competition. Each had their own worries, and their own wishes for their own future.

* * *

 **This is just the beginning of a whirlwind story prepared to blow your mind around every corner. A play on Kiera Cass' classic Selection turned into a storyline following fate and those who dare tamper with such a force will be on your mind every moment of every day. With games played by good and evil: of romance, of hate, of death and all surrounding such aspects, this story will dance on cliffs, leaving you hanging and on the edge of your seat.**

 **As the author of this story, I have so much planned to intrigue anyone who dare join, write, and provide aid to my technique. To join, please fill out the form found on my account, in my bio, and please write with detail for me to choose wisely which characters to use. I want diversity, and opportunity to tell the story of these girls with immense brilliance to bring them to life on the screen of your phone, computer, etc. Give me something to work with, but I do have the authority to deny your submission of a character or ask you to change something if it proves problematic.**

 **If you are new to this, ask me whatever you'd like, and if you have any questions about the storyline, please tell me. I am willing to do anything if you want to join but have problems with understanding. I am so excited for this story to unfold and evolve as time goes. Thank you to anyone who desires to give me support.**


	2. Chapter 1 – Tabula Rasa

**Bonjour!**

 **So, I'm going to start this off with a very quick note to introduce you guys to what is going on.**

 **First off! I am so thankful for all of you that are following this story, and cannot wait for you to see what I have in store.**

 **Second, for those who have characters in this story (Ladies) please take a look at my Pinterest board (Elle S Goudie) to find important images and such. Much appreciated.**

 **Third, make sure to regularity review and give out feedback for the story, because I'm open to anything. Also, if anyone has any ideas for the story, I would love to hear them! And for those who have ladies in this story, please don't be afraid to comment about how I am writing your character. And if you have an idea for her in the plot of the story, ask me about it and I may just encorporate it.**

 **Thanks again! Enjoy ...**

* * *

 _ **Chapter One**_

* * *

Women without a fate.

What a tragic thing, that was! Women were supposed to have their fate set out for them, making it clear what they were to do and how their life was to unravel in Aenaes. But somehow these ten women had blank slates. Their lives were nothing in the eyes of the Moirai, as they were to be woven along the way. The Moirai had certainly planned the entire selection already, and that included the fate of each and every woman. These girls were the epitome of tabula rasa.

All women had been invited, but only the ones with the cleanest futures were chosen by the Moirai. Now ten women were on their way to the palace, each from far away or close. It would take a day for all of them to arrive, so the Fier would have to wait.

Zelos did not want to wait. He wanted to meet the ladies.

Eleos could care less, honestly. He was only a tad curious.

Aidos was nervous. Perhaps slightly afraid?

Anteros? Oh, the man was eager to fall in love, he was.

The Parcae too felt some anxiety. Daniella mostly – she wanted to see how things would unfold, and she needed to know what she could do to save the Prince. Although she could not speak to him directly in the eye of the ladies, she wanted to keep his heart confined. Keep him away from harm. Nina and Maria, the Fate called Morta prior, both alike cared none for the selection, and only for the health and safety of the dear prince. They were, all three, devoted to him, but they would have to give protection to all four men this time around, rather than the one. They couldn't risk defying the Moirai.

But they wanted them gone, oh so terribly.

The morning soon came for the women to arrive and be brought from their sweet little homes etched into the edges of the mountains, as all people did live. All the Kingdom was carved of stone, created from the earth itself, and protected with the magic of the Parcae and the Moirai. Fear was too rare to be known as a problem, but ever since the Moirai come upon the Kingdom to rule, it had become common. More people feared their fate.

Amelia van Buren, on the other hand, feared not her fate, but rather that long way down from her home to the palace grounds. Her home was quite high in the mountain, carved years ago, but likely one of the younger homes. It was easier to get down to the ground village and palace from her home due to the new stairs, but in and around the plateau she called her little community, she liked to stay away from the edges.

Today, however, would be the first day after which she would not have to fret about heights, or creepy crawlies on the walls. Tomorrow she would wake up in the palace and get a close-up with the Fier. So mysterious ... Perhaps she would write a page in her notebook on this new adventure?

"Mel!" The voice from outside her room startled her, and she turned to face the door from a horizontal position on her comfortable bed. She wondered how comfortable the palace beds would be ...

"We have to go, Mel!"

It was her mother. Marilyn van Buren liked things to happen upon schedule, and if anything went awry, she would flip a table. Well, Amelia had yet to see that, but she assumed that was what her mother would do if anything went wrong. Things never really went wrong if her mother had anything to do with it.

Her father, on the other hand ...

He burst into her room with a pillow in hand, and launched it at her. It took him just a split second to rush back out of the room with a whooping laugh. Amelia groaned, grabbing the pillow and tossing her ball aside, which she had previously been tossing up and down in the air, and rushed after her father.

When she found him, he was standing beside a grandfather clock swaying slightly and making a ticking sound. He was pretending to be the clock, and assuming she couldn't see him. But she did, and he had no time to get out of the way before she tossing the pillow at him.

But her mother was soon to come into the little room.

"Amelia, please," she begged, leaning against the doorframe. "The car is at the at the end of the driveway. It's time to go."

Amelia took a deep breath. This was it – the moment where everything changed for her and her family. Perhaps she would return empty-hearted, or maybe she would stay in that grand palace with a new love and a new pair of eyes with which to share her shimmering life. On the other hand, she could find love but hate her life, falling into despair early on and wanting out. That was not a probable chance, however. Alas, she did not want to expect something of this nothing.

"My bags are packed," Amelia inhaled the cool air. It seemed to be growing colder. "I'm ready. Now it's time for the goodbyes, I assume?"

Her mother's face fell, but she did not see any tears. Around her body were now her father's arms, warm with his unbreakable love, and she felt as if she could let go. But eventually she did. Eventually she was watching her parents slip away out a window tinted so much that the sky looked sad and tired, almost black. Why the windows were so tinted inside, she wasn't sure. Maybe so that Amelia wouldn't have to see the details so clearly of the home she was leaving behind.

She wished her friends had been there, but they were not allowed to come. It was a family send-off. Rules of the palace that no one else was to cause problems. They wanted no difficulties. They wanted no refusal or for anyone to change their mind. They wanted perfection, and they wanted her.

And now?

That's exactly what they were getting. But what was she to get in return?

* * *

The silvery scars on her palms were hidden by her dark jacket, the leather old and faded making her pale skin stand out. She tossed her hood back, letting her auburn hair fall from its tangles and onto her thickly clad shoulder. Hestia had never seen anything like it. The road leading to the palace was old and cracked, the stone threatening to fall away into river rushing mutely below.

A few passerby servants from the palace began to appear, walking in and out of the main gates as they went to fetch food from the market for what she assumed to be the evening feast to welcome all ten girls to the palace. But what Hestia could not wait for was the Fier. She wanted to meet them – she wanted to know them. She wanted to get what she came for, and she would stop at nothing.

Hestia had left no one behind. Ultimately, she had no one to begin with. The orphanage was in her past, and all she had was that vague memory of hunger she no longer felt. Of course, she didn't eat as much as she should have been eating, but she ate enough to cast away that deep feeling of hard, angry hunger. She had enough food to keep her veins hot with the fire after which she was named.

Hestia Macht wanted this to happen now, and she wanted the flames in her blood to lead her forward until she had reached her goal.

* * *

Ophelia Winslow. The jewel, the gem, the ruby of the world she lived in.

How could she not have anything but perfect? The limo surrounding her and carrying her to her final destination was sleek and beautiful, almost as beautiful as she. Golden hair streamed away from a Tiffany headband as her personal driver helped her from the vehicle. She stood proud, her head held high and her lips curved in a determined smile.

She turned her head to the left, and then to right, examining her competition that stood on the pavement of the palace steps with her. A few still stumbled from their rides, presented to them by the palace, but Ophelia was right in front. She stood with a sense of power above all others, because that's who she was. She was going to destroy each girl who got in her way, because she could.

Sparkling eyes found that each girl had taken their provided mode of transportation, and she was the only one with enough means to provide her own. Ophelia laughed. How insignificant all else were compared to her.

She was the first to step forward towards the doors, mighty and brass that stood between her and her fortune. A white, designer heel clacked quietly against the cracked concrete, and she knew everyone was watching her. The rest f the girls followed as she walked up the steps, each girl carrying a bag of their things, while her servant carried hers.

This, she thought, was going to be a breeze.

And just as the wind picked up, she held her skirt down, and the brass doors cracked open.

* * *

The women began to file into the palace. One by one, each an evidently different woman in character and in stature. Some looked similar, and some looked very different. Some girls, you could tell, were going to thrive, and others would obviously fall quickly. But they all came in as a group through the large front door and into the dark innards of the place they would call home for a very long time. It was undeniable that, at first, they would enjoy themselves, but soon the reality would kick in. They would learn the secrets of the boy hidden away by ancient beings, and they would unveil details of the world that no one should ever know.

Most importantly, however, they would soon come to learn that they would never leave this beautiful place. They would never again see their homes or their families. They would never again feel freedom. The Moirai had plans for all ten ladies, and no matter what decision each lady made, none would ever escape the fate now set out for them.

But that was the special thing about these chosen women. The whole lottery for the Selection had been rigged. It was a cover for the true motive of the Moirai. These ladies, as you now know, never really had a fate. At one point in each lady's life they made a decision brought on not by their own fate, but by the power they each hold within their souls. This strength of mind and heart brought them where they are today. It allowed them to make a decision they had never been fated to make, and thus their fate dissipated into nothingness, and the strings of their life faded to white.

The strings of powerless humans are to be a normal, untouched brown. These strings have ends, and can be frayed to induce sickness, or cut to bring forth death. The ability to cut these strings belongs solely to the Parcae – the only beings whom ever have seen the strings of life. Not even the Moirai have the ability to control the power of the strings. They cut their training too short and never gained that ability.

Any powerful being, such as the Parcae and the Moirai, have strings of gold that are unbreakable and infinite. Only twice before has there ever been an occurrence of a string with a colour other than such assigned to the race of being. The first occurrence was the birth of a hybrid. The son of Daniela, or Decuma, the youngest of the Parcae. This Parca (singular of Parcae) fell in love with a human – the first King of Aeneas. The King loved her too, but they could not be together because Nina and Maria did not approve. But Daniela soon bore his child, and the Prince was born – a boy of two bloods, and a boy of a shimmering bronze strong. He began the line of royals who carried the power of the Parcae.

They could change fate.

For centuries, however, this fact was hidden, and the royal family was not allowed to use their power. But now? The power has been diluted to almost nothing. After so many centuries the royals – or the sole Prince as he is now – can change their fate with another, which would change the entire course of their live's history and of those around them.

The second occurrence of a frightening new colour was white. This new discovery that people could have no fate at all ... It was brought on by the actions of these girls. They did something ... Made a decision with so much strength that it shook the fate from their very lives, and stripped their string down to nothing. They were a blank slate ... a _tabula rasa_. It was as if they were born again, and their fate was to be determined by their own actions. They had no fate now, and never will, because their decisions are their very life. They carry their life in their hands, and the Moirai rely on their clumsiness.

When the girls came into the palace they were stripped of their clothing and given a brand new wardrobe. It was a shock to each and every lady – they were to wear an outfit by demand of the Moirai, depending on situation and time, and each girl would wear the exact same thing. It was cultish, some girls thought, and others just found it odd.

The ladies were led across a short bridge from the main hall to a small castle on the water. Inside lay their clothing in multiple separate rooms. It was a cozy little home where each of the ten would be living in harmony unless they were eliminated, or worse.

They were left alone by the servants who lead them along, and told to wait for further instruction. They slipped into separate rooms, and on each door was a title. It was how they would be known for this long, painful journey they thought to be so simple. None other than their own ears would hear their name if they dared whisper it in the shadows. The Fier wouldn't know who they are. It protected the fate of the Prince, whomever he was.

It did not, however, protect the ladies. They could tell other ladies, and the Moirai would know. But they could never speak their name to the Fier. They had yet to learn those rules, however.

On their doors was a title, as had been said. And each knew their true name.

 _Dolos_

Ophelia R Winslow

 _Keres_

Hestia Macht

 _Kratos_

Viviette J Marx

 _Lethe_

Rosalie M Kingston

 _Phobos_

Adella M Jung

 _Peitho_

Park Sooyung

Nomos

Yaelis N duCain

 _Eros_

Amelia K van Buren

 _Elpis_

Evelyn W Whittaker

 _Alke_

Athena C de la Roche

When each girl finally found their comfort in their room, wiggling their toes or untangling their hair, or perhaps letting a few tears fall as they wept for their distant family ... a letter fell silently into their room through the gold latch in the door. A knock was set heavy upon the brass frame to catch the attention of any distracted or napping woman. They read the letter, and they dressed.

 _Ladies,_

 _Welcome._

 _Welcome to Castle Aeneas, and welcome to your final fate. We hope you have no fears and that you are open to life to will be living alongside nine other girls. Tread carefully, we warn you._

 _Please dress in the attire hanging behind your door. In a few minutes you will be accompanied by your personal maid and guard, and they will bring you to us for your initiation. Do not be late, and wear nothing but that dress and the mask your maid will provide._

 _Do not fear us, we say. But do not be fearless._

 _Go gentle._

 _– Moirai_

* * *

 **So, there it is! I really hope you guys are interested. Please remember to give feedback, and review!**

 **Next chapter is in the works. Coming soon.**

 **Elle.**


	3. Chapter 2 – The Prince

**Bonjour, encore!**

 **Hello, again!**

 **This chapter took quite some time because I had quite a bit planned for the characters. This is late, I know, but it was worth it! I hope you love reading this chapter as much as I loved writing it.**

 **Also, don't forget to** ** _review_** **the story!**

 **Here are things I want to know: Who you think each of the Fier are (Prince, Guard, Servant, Criminal), what you think about the different characters more prominent in this chapter, and any more speculations you have!**

 **I would also love it if you commented what you see in the future for these girls, or any ideas you have, right in the review section! If I see one I like, I may just use it!**

 **Enjoy!**

–

 _Chapter Two_

 _–_

She had just set down he letter when there came a knock at the door. Not a second after the large metal slab swung open and in rushed a small dark-haired girl with a smile that blinded her. Hestia didn't like people. She especially didn't like people who looked as if their favourite pastime was giving long, meaningful hugs. And this frail little thing seemed to be the epitome of kindness, and the personification of an embrace.

It was annoying just to look at her.

"Miss Hestia, a pleasure it is to meet you, finally." The girl was young, maybe in her early twenties, but she had the body of a sixteen year old girl.

Hestia sat still on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the girl. "Right," she managed through her shocked expression.

The girl straightened out her adorable little maid's outfit and turned towards the door just in time for another person to march in. Well, more or less ... He peeked his head in, and then jumped through the doorway like he was some sort of superhero. Hestia was utterly unimpressed and completely annoyed at this point – all she wanted to do was get on with the evening so she could get this competition started.

And so she could size up her competition and reach her ultimate goal. One which would go unspoken to anyone until she had silver coins over her eyes. Life goals didn't just get unveiled like a bride on her wedding day. They were secret. To Hestia, at least.

But she would win this stupid competition. She would.

"Trystan Gara," the boy said cheerfully. He wore the traditional guard uniform all palace protection staff wore, and upon his breast was the symbol of Castle Aeneas. A black stitched circular background with three silver circles interconnected behind a silver dagger – it was plastered all over the island, on every shield, on every tapestry, and every store. If you did not bear the crest of the Castle Aeneas somewhere in your home you would be prosecuted by the Moirai. Why? No one really knew. They were strict in fate and such, and in protecting the prince from any prying eyes, but why they wanted to protect the crest so much escaped all who knew.

"A pleasure," said Trystan after Hestia remained silent for a good few seconds. "I'm sure you're indefinitely ecstatic about being here, yes?"

Hestia was about to answer when the smaller girl came forward. "I'm Zoe. I'll be your maid for the remainder of your stay here in Castle Aeneas. I will try my best to make it the best, and I'll do whatever you like. I'm here for you. Anything you need."

"I need a less annoying crowd," Hestia spoke blatantly, raising an arched eyebrow.

Zoe was use to being spoken down to, and Trystan was used to being obedient and taking orders. They were the perfect pair to be siding along Hestia, but then again, possibly the worst match imaginable.

"Don't worry, three isn't a crowd as long as you've got Trystan and I." She nudged him with her sharp elbow, and the guard looked alert with another blinding smile, much like Zoe's.

"It's like we're just one person, but split in two."

Hestia rolled her eyes. "You two are messed up. I might just kill myself before spending another day with you two."

Zoe clapped a hand over her mouth, and Trystan grabbed her shoulder.

"Right," Hestia realized, "That's a bit of an insult, isn't it?"

"And illegal, Miss Hestia," Zoe added. Trystan nodded enthusiastically. Hestia thought his head might snap off.

Oh, what a day that would be.

"My identity is supposed to be kept a secret, yes?" Hestia stood up, marching straight towards the door and taking off the dress that hung behind it. It was a silky black gown that was light and cool, but the skirt was flowered with gold patterns. It was nice, nicer than anything Hestia had ever worn. She supposed the nicest thing she had worn before now had been a clean, new apron a woman had given her when she was around ten years old. Then again, she had worn some nice things as a child. Her parents had been generous before they'd passed.

Zoe and Trystan exchanged a look.

"Um," the little woman began, "yes, Miss. I believe so."

Hestia did not even turn to look at them as she stripped off her top and trousers. Trystan turned briskly, his cheeks flushing red, but Zoe remained still. "Then why do you call me by my name and not my title?"

"Um ..."

She pulled the dress up to her chest, slipping her arms into the billowing sleeves and shrugging uncomfortably. With an unpleased expression, she turned to Zoe and gave a huff.

"Do I look terrible?"

Trystan, still turned, shook his head, and Zoe laughed. "No, Miss Hestia."

"Keres," said the fire-haired girl. Her eyes too burned like stars into the eyes of her newfound companions with whom she would be staying for quite some time, she hoped. It was a terrible thing, hope. It pained her to do so because no matter how much she did not want to spend a moment more with anyone else who would smile so brightly, she also wanted to stay here as long as she could. But of course, to her disappointment, it had to be with these to wondrous humans.

"Right," Zoe corrected herself. "Keres. We'll remember that. Trystan ... We'll remember that, right?"

"Yes," Trystan blurted, turning quickly and raising his brows. "I will remember that so you will remember that."

Hestia frowned. "What?"

"Zoe has a terrible memory. You have to tell her hundreds of times before –"

Zoe elbowed him in the side, and he bit down on his lip, grasping his ribs with a contorted grimace. "Just don't expect me to remember that often, Miss."

Hestia shrugged without any kind of care for the situation. "Okay. Aren't you supposed to give me that mask?" She gestured to the box under Zoe's arm with an impatient sigh. Zoe rushed to set the box on the bed, opening it to reveal a white metal mask with pale wood carved into beautiful curves and an intricate design of a woman's face just above the brows on the forehead. It was wonderful, but Hestia couldn't help but think it was perhaps just a bit too much.

She reached to take it out of the box, but Zoe snatched it up before she could.

"Wha–?"

"I'm your maid, Miss Hestia." Hestia rolled her eyes once again, sighing impatiently – once again. "I'm to do whatever you don't have an obligation to do. And you don't have an obligation to do everything yourself, so please ..."

Hestia was frozen for a moment, analyzing the situation and pinching herself to try to wake from this utterly terrifying situation. A small foreign girl was trying to do everything for her ... Oh, how the tables have turned!

Hestia succumbed to the odd, forced kindness, and stood straight to allow Zoe to place the mask upon her visage. Once it was set in place, Zoe tried to fix Hestia's hair, but Hestia wouldn't have it. She let it flow naturally, to Zoe's distaste, and then Trystan led her out of her chambers. No other girl had yet to be completely ready. According to Zoe the rest were preparing for the evening with a makeover and many new things to add to their looks. Hestia was not shocked, however. Girls typically liked shiny things, and now they could make their eyelids sparkly without having to pay a pretty penny.

Girls were stupid. People were stupid.

Hestia, on the other hand, found herself to be the most intelligent person in that palace.

–

"Jeremiah, no!" Adella laughed, her eyes lighting up as she watched the twenty-some year old guard pick up his equal maid and strut down the hall. Adella chased after him and her newfound friend, dressed in the black and gold gown and white wood mask.

"Jeremiah, yes!" he cried, countering Adella with a swift comeback. Dahlia Alcott, a meek maid that would be aiding Adella throughout her journey new and here, was atop the shoulder of the strong, burly guard. She hit his back and squealed for him to drop her, because fun like this was not supposed to be had within palace walls. They were across the waters, though, so there was some leniency without the deadset eyes of the Moirai.

There was only one other girl in the hallway. Adella had no idea what she was called, but she had brown hair. That's all she knew. She walked without her guard or maid, but then turned and went back into her room. Adella ignored it, and brought her attention back to Jeremiah and Dahlia.

"Guys," she hesitated, smiling awkwardly, "don't you think we should be heading down soon?" She stood with her hands in front of her, her head tilted slightly down to hide her teeth chewing on her bottom lip. Adella was uncomfortable. She wanted to know these people for who they were, and she understood that spending a fair amount of time together would allow this desired friendship to bloom. However, Adella also wanted to succeed here in the palace. She believed she had a chance here to find someone who really did love her, and with the masks she felt even more comfortable. Her striking, innocent beauty was always the first thing people saw, judging her off of the way she appeared on camera and photo. Adella wanted her inner beauty to be unveiled through a true, meaningful connection. That was rare, of course, because she knew that her life was set out for her through fate. Oh, how that frustrated her.

Beauty had been her entire life. Her mothers fashion company had been the pinnacle of her existence since her birth, but Adella had learned to live with it. Her father, on the other hand, simply wanted perfection from her. In her photos and during every shoot, each shot had to be perfect, and her intelligence had to be up to par no matter the situation, and no matter the preparation. Her parents, she assumed, truly did love her, but she knew how detached they could become when diving into their work. Adella really wanted something more than just that artificial love she had been given since a child. She wanted true love, and a stable relationship she could rely on.

Again, that was rare. But now? She wondered if she was chosen because they saw her fate was with the Prince. Perhaps the fates lead her here to be the next queen. Perhaps her love was already waiting.

–

Sooyung's guard had shown up first. He was handsome. Pale with blue eyes and a palette of freckles. His name was Ezra, and he was beautiful.

But he was not for whom she was here. This palace was her home and she was going to make it permanent. She wanted the crown ... Or so most would think. She wasn't exactly a kind love type of person. She was attracted to beauty and body and ability. She was attracted to what men could do between the sheets, and not how much cash their pockets could hold.

Ezra, however, was frightened of Sooyung's initiations.

"So," Sooyung asked, sitting on Ezra's lap as he rested in the chair by the door. "What is the minimum requirement of physical activity by a guard like you." She played with his hair, sandy blonde and resting gently below his ear. It twirled between her fingers and she smiled – she liked to play with hair. It aroused her in a way. Much less than pulling did, of course.

Ezra gulped back a breath, and gasped as he realized that he did in fact need that extra flash of air. "Uh ... I'm not sure. The guys just kind of ... go?" He was shivering. This was ... uncomfortable.

Sooyung wanted to do something ... She hadn't done anything since she had left her corner two days ago, and twice a day was what kept her caught up on her fix. "Hm. You don't like to go into detail? No? Why not tell a little about you ... and what you like."

Ezra twitched away from her lips on his checks, but the other side of his face ran into her hand and he couldn't go any further. He was, admittedly, turned on by this beautiful blonde woman atop him, but he knew it was wrong! If he made any move on her he would be thrown in jail. She was here for the Prince, whoever he was. Even he didn't know the real face of the Prince. Only his personal guard had ever seen him maskless.

Ezra said nothing. "Oh, come on," Sooyung pressured, grasping the shoulders of his tough jacket and tugging. "We've got time. Let's mess around a bit."

Ezra made a frightened sound, so Sooyung pulled back for a split second, just before she felt a pair of strong hands grab her shoulders and she went tumbling backwards off of Ezra. When she lifted her head she saw Ezra adjusting his clothing, but there was another girl there with him. She was around the same age as he was, but Sooyung was too annoyed to assume anything. She stood, brushing off her old clothing to send a challenging glare to this new addition to her room.

"Are you trying to get thrown in jail?" Sooyung stomped her foot, stripping off her shirt as she saw the dress behind the door. The meeting was in ten minutes. She should probably get ready. "You're just a maid, you shouldn't grab me like that."

"I'm just a maid, eh? Might I remind you that us maids organize everything about your look, so I wouldn't make any more assumptions if I were you, or you'll end up with an unevenly stitched crotch line. You'll be flashin' much more than that chest, and be doing so unwillingly."

Sooyung rolled her eyes and removed her pants, Ezra looked on. He had seen this before. Although, it was odd that the male guards were permitted to enter the ladies' rooms. There had been no mention of it being an off-limits area.

"I'm Audrie, Sooyung. Don't mess with me." She took the dress off the hook and handed it to the blonde woman. Her face was clean of emotion, and shrugged. "I'm just your maid."

Sooyung snatched the dress from Audrie and stared swords into her eyes. She said nothing, left it at that, dressed, and all three of them marched silently down to the gathering hall and ballroom. It was a bumpy start for Sooyung and Audrie, but Ezra couldn't stop smiling.

–

People swarmed by the door: the maids, touching up the ladies' appearances and making sure they were perfect; the guards, standing around and making sure no girls got into a quarrel. It was not going to be televised, so their makeup was minimal and simple. However, some girls, like Ophelia, make the choice to be fully covered. Her makeup was not layered or caked on, but rather looked perfectly professional and artistically beautiful at the hands of her talented maid. Of course, Ophelia had known aesthetics since she had been very young so she had put in her two cents every few seconds to make sure she got exactly what she wanted. She was satisfied, now, because almost everyone looked on in envy of her beauty.

Her hair was a brilliant natural blonde, her skin porcelain smooth, and the shape of her body in the neat black dress was magnetic to any an eye. She was beautiful to anyone who would dare to look at her, but what destroyed the beautiful image of Ophelia was the fact that she knew it. She knew she was beautiful, so she stuck her nose up and lived her life as a beautiful girl. Some people were intimidated, but others were annoyed.

When the doors opened, the women were led in by the guards, and the maids filed back to the quarters of the ladies', called the Banks. It was situated at the bank of the river near the castle and down the hill, and it was a five-minute outside walk up the stairs to the palace from the base of the hill. The ladies would have to get used to that.

In the ballroom the floor was smooth. Some shoes slipped on the glossy floor, but most made their way safely to the silver chairs set up in a neat semi-circle, facing seven other chairs, these ones black. The ladies sat in the chairs, most seated neatly with their legs crossed as their maids had requested. Apparently that would give them a more regal image, but some girls did not take that advice. To win, they wanted to be ... well ... themselves.

Hestia sat uncomfortably positioned, her legs uncrossed and her body arched forward with her elbows resting on her knees. She wanted to get out of the dress. It made her feel like a doll, and she definitely was not a doll in anyone's dollhouse. However, this might have been the closest she would ever be to becoming someone's possession.

Yaelis duCain sat on the furthest chair form the door, and for a moment she sat with her legs crossed – one neatly tucked under the other. Soon, however, she uncrossed her legs and sprawled them out. This was exhausting, having to comply to the rules of someone she had yet to meet. The Moirai, in her opinion, had no charge above her. She knew the history. She knew the stories. She had gone through the past with a fine-toothed comb and spent hours crouched over a desk with a dim spotlight, flipping through pages of endless past. Some of the books had been illegal, but she had purchased them from an old bookstore that dealt with something of a black market. The old man had sold it to her on one condition: if she were caught, she would not mention his name whatsoever, even if they tortured her. Of course, Yaelis knew better than to get caught, so she had kept things under wraps for quite a while.

The ballroom made Yaelis uncomfortable. She was exposed. Would she be caught? Would they somehow know? Couldn't they see her fate? Did that mean ... did they know?

"Hey," Yaelis jerked away from someone poking her bicep, but as she turned she found herself face-to-face with another lady. Rosalie had shifted her hair closer to Yaelis in order to talk to her, so Yaelis just had to listen. She must have been desperate if she had moved the chair that weighed probably as much as she did. "What's your name?"

"Yae–" Yaelis stopped herself. "Um ... Nomos." It felt weird, saying the word as if it was her name. She had studied the identities of a person, and the gods and goddesses born in history books that should have been burnt centuries earlier. Nomos was loyalty, and even though Yaelis was undoubtedly loyal, it still felt odd to give herself this alias.

"Lethe," Rosalie blurted, shooting her hand forward for Yaelis to shake. "It means oblivion. I'm not sure why they gave me that name." Yaelis shook her hand. Her hands were dry and she suddenly thought about that hand cream she had seen sitting atop the counter in the bathroom inside her room.

Yaelis squinted at Rosalie's comment. "Yeah, sure."

The lights in the ballroom suddenly quit, the entire room plunging into darkness. It only took a few moments for the white lights to come up, shining like a large spotlight on the line of seven chairs. When the lights came up, the chairs were full. Seven men in suits sat comfortably: three with chiseled faces who appeared middle-aged with light wrinkles and greying hair, and four with masks to cover their expressions and appearances.

The Moirai. Dressed in black and bearing each an expression of force.

The Fier. Dressed in grey and bearing each a tie the colour of their eyes. Green. Blue. Gold. Brown.

The guards, standing behind the girls, suddenly began to file out. The girls began to worry. Evelyn Whittaker, the scrawny girl who appeared more like a young boy than a seventeen-year-old female, reached behind her and grabbed hold of her guard – William's – sleeve.

"Wait ..." she begged, her eyes mimicking the moon for a moment. Her hair prickled on her arms and the back of her neck, and trough the room swept a cool breeze. William swallowed.

"Elpis, I have to go."

She looked back towards the seven mysterious men, and tensed as one stood. A spotlight followed him and he stood before the seven chairs. "Will, what is going on?" She asked desperately, already feeling anxious. The girls beside her – Viviette Marx to her left and Adella Jung to her right, not that she knew their names – glanced wearily in her direction. Ophelia leaned over and gave her a glare, so she kept quiet as the man fixed his tie. It was a little frightening. Everything was silent, dark, and the are in the room was chilling.

William shook his head. "I don't know. I'll see you after, Elpis." Evelyn hated that people would be calling her Elpis. It was silly. She hoped it wouldn't create any problems – perhaps people would assume that her title was all she was: Hopeful. She was hopeful, yes, but that gave her a hint of innocence. Innocence was anything but Evelyn.

"William Dara," the man with the dark suit called, and William stood at attention, hands by his side. Evelyn swivelled back in his chair and froze. "Please exit the room. Your presence is no longer required."

The room was quiet. Ophelia and Evelyn could hear Adella's heart beating like a drum, fast as a flying freight train. Adella had a good reason, however. The man straight across from her, in a grey suit with an Tiffany tie, was staring directly at her. She remained still, and gave a soft smile to acknowledge that she had seen him. He smiled back, and her shoulders fell, a sigh tumbling from her lips.

The man in black, standing in the centre of the room, turned his attention to her, as did each girls, and she made a sound.

"Ladies," the man said, raking pale fingers through his dark hair. "I am Atticus: Atropos of the Moirai. I organized this competition to be a success, and with your proper participation, it will be. Alas, it will only end positively is you follow the rules and understand your situation. I am in charge of monitoring your actions and judging your ability to succeed in these trials." Atticus was a broad-shouldered man with intelligent eyes. It was evident that he was the leader of the three Moirai.

Another of the men stood, sauntering weightlessly – it was as if he barely touched the ground. His shoulders were more frail than those of Atticus, and he was almost a full three inches shorter. He appeared kind and lenient. "I am Lawrence: Lachesis of the Moirai. I am in charge of the lives of all you beautiful women. If you have any problems, you can take it up with me."

Hestia coughed. To Ophelia, it sounded dramatically fake, but no one else seemed to be fazed. She coughed again. Perhaps the change to clean air after so many years was hurting her lungs.

The third man stood, and almost rushed to stand on the other side of Atticus. He was silent for a few moments, but soon gave a smile and said, "Good evening, Ladies!" A few girls smiled, but Hestia only stared blankly. Ophelia, on the other hand, responded, greeting him with smiles and a slight bow of her head even in her sitting position. He grimaced. "I am Claude: Clotho of the Moirai. My duty is to you. I will teach you how to be a woman of royalty. Should you make it far enough, I will teach you to be Queen."

Claude and Lawrence began to chatter about eh next topic.

"The Fier, as you see here, are four men to confuse you."

"Yes! That is actually the purpose."

"One of them, only one, is the Prince."

"But you must figure out who it is by yourself."

"The other three consist of a guard –"

" ... a criminal –"

" ... and a servant."

"You do not know who each one is, and you will not until the competition is over."

"The lady who falls in love with the mask behind which is the true Prince will become Queen."

"Those who fall in love with any of the other three men, or none at all, will be eliminated and sent home with nothing."

"We are not here to host your love, we are here to find love for the Prince. Do not be sad. This is not for you."

Atticus raised a hand for silence among the Moirai, and began to speak. "You will learn how to live here, remaining within the boundaries we set for you and respecting all rules we give. If you should break these rules, there will be consequences."

He eyed each girl with silver eyes that matched each other Moirai. It was uncommonly known that silver eyes were a sign of dark magic, but one person had studied the history of magic, and the history or Caexus. Yaelis duCain watched each man with a sharp glare, her hands in her lap as she tried not to draw attention to herself. Perhaps these other girls did not understand what was going on, but she was beginning to put together the pieces.

These men were bad; she knew that. She knew the truth of the past, even if knowledge like that was illegal. Yaelis would have to find a way out, however. She would have to find a way to get ut of there before she was killed.

"Your first guideline is the most important, and if you break it you will be punished upon first discovery. And please, do not try to go around us – we know everything that goes on within palace walls. Actually, anywhere on palace ground we will be able to see and hear you, so do not risk your stay here just to be a rebel." He glanced at Yaelis and she tensed, her joints stiffening and her hands forming tight fists. Perhaps he could hear thoughts as well? No. She knew that was not possible. "Firstly, you must never remove your mask or tell your name. The point of your mask is to protect your identity and prevent admiration from the Fier directed towards your facial structure. They only time you may remove your mask is when you are alone with other ladies, or if the Fier demand it. That is the only exception, but that will only occur further into the competition. Also, your name is who you are, and you may not release it to anyone, not even your closest friends. We are the only ones who will ever know your name, until you are either chosen as Queen or released from your duties in this palace."

As Atticus spoke on about 'keeping the identity pure', Athena inhaled heavily with annoyance. A mask did not hide a body or lips, two things that men were ultimately attracted to. The logic behind the Moirai's plans was faulty and almost ignorant. If they really wanted to protect the fate, and thus identity, of the Fier, thus the Prince, then they would have to do something even more extravagant. They probably would have had to eliminate having anyone meet in person at all. Now that she thought of it, she fathered this situation. The Fier were attractive, from what she could see. But she also realized that, even though they all had similar heights and structures, their muscle volume and face shapes were significantly different. Perhaps if Athena could find a photograph of the King and Queen she could compare facial and bone structure and find out who the Prince was without any hassle.

"Secondly, your boundaries are obvious. If you step out of palace boundaries you will be notified by a sensation in your feet. Turn around and return and it will cease – continue and you will be eliminated from the competition. Now, ladies ... there are only a few rules, and all other guidelines are quite obvious. If you follow the law and abide by the rules that have been set for centuries, you will not be punished. If you do anything to counter those laws, you will be punished and eliminated." Atticus breathed out for a full five seconds, but there had been no indication that he had ever breathed in, that his chest had ever risen to inhale before he let the ghoulish air from his age-old lungs.

"The last rule that must be followed goes along the lines of respect. If we make a request, you will follow it. For example, this evening we will be hosting a dinner to accommodate you and welcome you into this new life. Please attend wearing the black formal dress hanging in your wardrobe in your room. Your maids will help you dress, and you will wear the white-wood mask, of course." He's gestured to the girls as a whole, to the masks lain upon their faces.

"But first!" he called out, raising both hands as if he were hung on a cross. The Fier stood, coming to his side, two between him and Claude, and two between him and Lawrence. "The Fier will choose their first meeting. The girls chosen will not have to attend this evening's dinner on time, as they will spend time alone with the member of the Fier by whom they were chosen and attend the dinner when they are finished. Preferably before the sun is gone, which will occur around ten o'clock this evening. The other ladies, those not chosen, will go to their rooms and prepare for the dinner around nine o'clock. Please attend punctually."

The girls were shifting in their seats, watching the Fier as the Fier watched them. Each pair of eyes overlook each girl, but the man with the blue eyes had already chosen his prey. He was ambitious and strode forward, standing before one girl and reaching his hand towards her. A voice gruff and guttural spoke the word, "Come." He smiled at Ophelia Winslow, and she took his hand willingly.

Atticus nodded. "Zelos, the man with the blue eyes, has chosen Dolos to be his first meeting."

When Zelos found his place back in the line, her by his side and grasping at his arm, another of the Fier went forward. His green eyes sparked with interest, and a sly smirk crossed his lips as he bowed to one of the girls, lifting her hand to kiss it sweetly. Only Park Sooyung could feel the truth behind his lips: he wanted something more.

They walked into line together, and Sooyung was giggling the hole way up, the green-eyed man holding her close. Ophelia sneered at the sight, and Athena rolled her eyes.

"Elios, the man with the green eyes, has chosen Petiho to be his first meeting."

The last two men went forward together, but, shifting his brown tie, one man paused. The other went forward, his eyes like Midas, and took the hand of Amelia van Buren. Still, the last man hesitated.

"Anteros, the man with the golden eyes, has chosen Eros to be his first meeting. And Aidos, the man with the brown eyes, has chosen ..." Atticus faltered, staring at the last man as he stood looking at the girls. "AIdos, please make your choice. We have no time for hesitation." Aidos looked back at Atticus and the other men, then towards the remaining seven girls.

Zelos cleared his throat. "Aidos, buddy. Just make a choice. It's not permanent."

Aidos chewed his lip, nodding as he took the hand of one girl as quick as he could, bringing her up into the line and holding her hand tightly. She giggled.

" ... has chosen Elpis to be his first meeting!" Atticus finished his phrase, and gestured for the guards to come back in. The doors opened on their own and the guards all filed in to take the hands of the girls who remained. In silence, they were led out, and once the doors closed behind them the four chosen girls stood alone with their Fier.

"Ladies," Atticus addressed them, and they turned quickly to look at him. "You know what to do."

In an explosion of darkness, the Moirai were gone. It was as if they had never been there, but the Fier were not phased.

"Alright," Zelos called out into the large, echoing room. All eyes were on him, but his wide-eyed gaze was only on Ophelia. He thought she was beautiful, even with her mask on, and in that moment Ophelia knew that the masks were only an item, and could not force any barrier between admiration, sexually or romantically. "Let's get this thing started."

He began to ask Ophelia what she wanted to do, but stopped, and led her from the room. Aidos and Evelyn were already giggling away, and soon rushed off to find a more secluded place like the gardens. Elios and Sooyung were long gone, whispering about as she grabbed him in places a prince should not be touched. Honestly, if she thought he was the prince she should not be placing her hand anywhere near his royal jewels. It was disgusting and rude. But not to her. And anyways, he had his hands in places that would be considered objective outside the palace walls, but anything could happen in here.

So Anteros and Amelia were left alone in the wide ballroom. They hadn't spoken a word yet, but Anteros could not keep his eyes off of her. She looked up at him for a split moment, found his gold eyes on hers, and then averted her gaze. She wondered exactly what this beautiful man was thinking. His eyes were like stars ... She wondered if that was a silly thought to think.

"You have very nice hair," Anteros said quietly, lifting his hand to touch the whisps of her hair, curled and just recently cut to her shoulder blades. It looked extremely healthy, and very soft.

Amelia's own heart was throbbing in her chest. This man whom she had just met was touching her hair, and his face was covered by a thick mask so she could barely tell what his intentions were. She moved from his touch, and he dropped his hands before him, holding them tightly.

"I apologize. Next time I will ask."

Okay, now she was starting to see who this man was. His voice was thoroughly calm and even through the mask she could see his eyes were intent with concern. This man was odd, but he seemed to be kind enough.

Better than PJ, Amelia thought to herself. That boy never loved her at all.

This man, Anteros, was looking at her through the windows of his dark mask as if he was looking for something. Perhaps he wouldn't find it, though. Perhaps Amelia would be thrown out before she could make any sort of connection with anyone, Fier or lady.

"Shall we take a walk?" His voice was reluctant, and she could tell that he didn't exactly feel like this meeting was going to do much. But he was good at faking it, in the end. If she hadn't been so perceptual she wouldn't have noticed that rise in his voice when he spoke.

"Sure," she responded, bowing slightly in the flowing dress. She thought if she moved her dress would tear; it was so flimsy and thin! At the back of her mind she wondered whether or not her silk beige underwear could be seen through the sheer black material of her dress.

They walked out of the ballroom, and he held the door for her on the way out. Amelia was prepared to walk around and say nothing, because Anteros didn't exactly seem like the type of person to–

"So tell me: Who are you?"

–converse.

She had been wrong, and now she was unprepared for a conversation.

"Um ..." she glanced out a distant window at the setting sun and the purple haze that set over the misty palace grounds. "Well, I am a poet, and a photographer."

"A photographer of what?" Anteros pressed on. Perhaps he would be more engaging than Amelia had thought.

"Nature."

"Oh. Nice."

They were silent for a moment, walking down the hall towards the opening at the end. It went into a white room, and beyond it there was a staircase. Amelia shifted uncomfortably, shuffling her shoes as she walked.

"Oh, dammit!" Anteros cursed. Amelia looked on in shock as he rolled his eyes and ran his tanned fingers through his hair.

"What's wrong?"

"I didn't ask you your name."

She laughed. Oh, what fun this was going to be. "I can't tell you my name, Anteros. You know that." He nodded, knowing she was ultimately right. "But you can call me Eros."

Anteros stopped, standing still as he looked at her in awe, standing in front of the white room. Her eyes and hair and gown were so dark in contrast to her pale skin and the walls before which she stood. She was like the silhouette of a ghost – a beautiful ghost – waiting for her lover to return from his bed away from home. But he was there, standing before her as something of a replacement. But that was not true, and that story was not real.

"Is something wrong?" she demanded, fretting about whether or not she made a mistake in something she said. What could it have been?

He shook his head. "No. I'm just wondering ..."

"What?" she asked abruptly. He only smiled.

"Eros."

"Yes. Is something wrong?"

"It represents sexual intercourse."

Her eyes blew wide and she shook her head in defence. "No, no ... That has nothing to do with –"

"It also means love."

She was silent. She had nothing to say save for, "Yes." What was he getting at?

"Eros," he said, addressing her and stepping forward. He was barely a foot away. "Do you believe in true love?"

–

On the way back to the dorm for the ladies Yaelis walked close to Rosalie, whispering into her ear away from both of their guards. They stood a few feet away, far enough so they could talk without being heard.

"Ophelia will be the first to go," Yaelis gossiped.

Rosalie frowned. Ophelia, to her, seemed decent enough. "Why do you think that?"

"She's conceited and rude. I can tell just from the ways she looks, walks, and speaks. She's a privileged girl who lives in a world that cares none for the rest of us. Historically, those are the first to be brought down."

"Really?" Rosalie was confused once again. "I would think that because they have so much power they can overcome anything."

A laugh rung out from Yaelis' chest, and she held her side as if holding a stitch on a run. "No, definitely not. The higher you are, the further you have to fall. She'll be the first to go. I'm sure of it."

For a moment Rosalie was silent, pondering the thoughts to her Yaelis had introduced. They stepped up the cobblestone path to their little home by the river and continued talking.

"So, who do you think will win this thing?" Rosalie asked obliviously.

Yaelis made a face. "Well, shouldn't you be rooting for yourself?"

Rosalie hummed in agreement, nodding her head as she realized her mistake. "Right ... Well, if it isn't you, who do you think will win?"

Yaelis shrugged. "I'm not sure. I don't even know who the Prince is yet, so we can't tell who will fall in love with who."

"Right," Rosalie said.

"But ... I do have some bits of knowledge for you. Stay out here for a moment and I'll tell you something interesting." Yaelis led her new gossip buddy to the sitting area outside the rooms, plopping down onto the plush, violet cushions. "Did you know that years ago the Parcae were actually training the Moirai to be their next-in-lines?"

Rosalie shook her head, and Yaelis continued brightly, "Yeah! The Parcae were the original fates and –"

"Well, I knew that!" Rosalie interjected. "In the end they turned on the Moirai and tried to destroy them."

"No, no, no ... The Moirai were actually the ones who turned on the Parcae." Rosalie was mesmerized, leaning in closer as Yaelis whispered quietly. "They built them up, almost the perfection, and when the Moirai thought they had enough power to take over, the Parcae disagreed. So the Moirai locked them in a magic cell beneath the palace and took over the Kingdom for themselves."

A door creaked open, and both girls turned. It was only a maid leaving from another girl's room to get some fresh linens. When she returned to the room, Yaelis resumed her risky gossip.

"It is said that this turn of events and turn in fate caused many people to be born with ability to do the same."

"What does that mean?" Rosalie asked incredulously. Yaelis only shook her head.

"I have no idea. I don't think it's happened yet. If it has, we'd never know."

"Anything else?" Rosalie was desperate for more information, not truly understanding the consequences to knowing this information.

"Yes, actually. It is believed that the Parcae are still holed up in the dungeons of the palace. At some point I want to go find them, to see if the rumours are true. Are you in?"

"Of course!" Rosalie said, and they both rushed off to their rooms as the guards began to turn their heads.

–

Zelos held Ophelia's hand like a vice, and she returned the gesture. She did not mind. She wanted this. It was nice.

They were walking in the basement walkways of the castle, a place very dark and dreary, but at the same time filled with stimulating pieces of Moirai and Parcae history. Zelos had been down there hundreds of times, but he had never brought anyone with him. He wanted to see Ophelia's reaction, and her thoughts.

"I've heard of it, but never read it. People say it is almost frightening. Won't it turn me into an evil mastermind?"

Ophelia laughed. "No! Of course not. It's a literary masterpiece, but is commonly looked upon as something of a script to lead someone to insanity. But don't worry, I'm sure you won't be buying a white cat to stroke anytime soon."

Zelos hummed in acknowledgement.

"The Prince began its life as a humble little present from Niccolò Machiavelli to Lorenzo de' Medici. When Machiavelli started writing the book in 1513, he had just been kicked out of his dream job as a Florentine diplomat, arrested, tortured, and was bored out of his mind in exile in the country. So he made a plan to get his job back. The Prince was a way over one-page resume in Italian that showcased Machiavelli's political skills to Lorenzo by giving him the secret sauce recipe for being a good ruler. It ends with Machiavelli asking Lorenzo to unify the country under his rule so that Italy would be peaceful and Machiavelli could become political advisor to the brand-new king of Italy. But it didn't work. He died before it was published."

"Yes, yes. I've heard of this one. Pope Clement the seventh classified it as a Devil's scripture, right?"

"Yes!" Ophelia loved these conversations. Machiavelli was her all-time favourite author. Zelos couldn't understand why, however. He knew these things but he didn't find any joy in understanding the theories behind them. It was silly to him, but he wanted to find a girl who matched him as quickly as possible.

Yeah, that wasn't true. Zelos wasn't exactly the loving type, and he just needed someone to be his sidekick.

"That was because Machiavelli didn't bother with morals or ethics when he spoke of politics in his novel. It is still a controversy, however. And Machiavelli is still the character base for all those tall, lanky evil villains in most literary fiction. People drag him through the mud – they have for centuries, and he's not even around to defend himself."

"Hm," Zelos responded, nodding his head along with her. "Now, I know this might seem like an odd question, but what exactly are your feelings towards characters like Machiavelli?"

Ophelia paused to ponder the question, sighing as she strutted along in her high-heels and flowing gown. She was proud. The way her nose stuck up in the air – Zelos wondered if she too was as naive as the victims of these crazy villains. "Well," she began, her shoulders lifting and falling as if she had no idea, "I don't think they should be put down. I know that they are people of ambition and have a purpose, but I'd never do something even close to what they plan to do."

"And who is this 'they' you speak of?"

She sighed. "The people on the streets, mostly. The assassins in Aeneas, the people who thieve and kill – they are evil in my life, and I would never do anything to aid them."

"Nothing?" Zelos pressured.

"Um ... No, I don't think I would."

"Not even for love? What if your family was at stake? Your own life?"

"If I was being threatened, of course I would. But if someone I loved told me to kill someone, I'd have trouble doing it."

Zelos hummed again, and Ophelia struggled to redeem herself. She didn't want to disappoint him. She wanted to impress him.

"But I am definitely strong enough to –"

"Would you like to go for dinner, now?"

Ophelia was taken aback. The time the two of them were supposed to go for dinner wasn't for another thirty minutes. And even then she had hoped he would take her alone to eat. She wanted this badly. She wanted the Prince. Zelos seemed to be regal enough, so she wanted to keep learning more. But he was so stiff and guarded.

"Um ..."

"Let's go, then."

Ophelia went reluctantly, feeling as if she had failed herself. She would have to try harder.

–

Out on the grass beneath a tree, two people laughed and sung together, telling about their past and who they were, and what they hoped for the future. In all actuality, they really just talked about how insanely stupid they both were.

Aidos cried out in laughter. Evelyn was an absolute hoot! It was almost as if he had found his new best friend.

"You are so silly!" he exclaimed with a pat on her shoulder. Evelyn tumbled back on the gras, her dress covered in dry splinters of wood and ground. She didn't mind, though.

"I know! I'm a rebel, that's what I am."

"But you could have gotten even more hurt, El." Elpis was her full title, but he liked the cute little nickname.

"The tree was just there, and my cast wasn't stopping her from grabbing the branches."

Aidos leaned against another tree, looking up at the weaving of branches twisting into the sky above the two new friends. Who would have thought that they could have ever made as close a friend as this in the first hour or more of knowing each other?

"Do you think you could teach me to climb a tree? I never learned how."

"Really?" Evelyn was shocked. How could someone growing up in a place with so much vegetation never learn how to climb a tree? She wondered if this man was not the Prince. Perhaps he was the criminal? No ... this man could never be the criminal. "I mean: Yes! I'll teach you!" She stood up quickly, and almost abruptly, grabbing Aidos' hand and pulling her with him. He did so without hesitation, but was weary about what she was going to do.

"No, no ... El, you can't teach me now. We have to go to dinner soon. You can teach me later, okay? I definitely want to learn it."

Evelyn complied, and he held her hand as they walked back to the dining room. The halls were long and windy, but she loved it nonetheless. It was as if Aidos knew every inch of this palace down to the backbone. She wondered if he was the Prince or the Servant. The Servants knew every inch of the palace, but then again – the guards were supposed to know their way around fairly well.

But Evelyn was excited. Though scared that she wouldn't fall in love with the Prince, she had never really been in love before so she was excited to know what it felt like. This whole thing about being chosen was so special to her.

They reached the dining hall and opened the doors. The rest of the girls were all dressed neatly in the dark evening wear, their hair let down around their shoulders, and they all looked quite similar. It was the definition of a group conformity, but one girl stood out.

Athena de la Roche had her hair pinned up like a real Princess, complete with sparkles and even a ribbon. Apparently her maid was very artistic, and Athena couldn't agree more that is was, in fact, a wonderful masterpiece. It was more than she had ever had, but she liked it. Some other girls looked on in envy, wondering whether their maid was talented enough to mimic it.

Evelyn, on the other hand, thought she looked nice, but wouldn't want to do anything close to that. She liked her hair as it was. She liked her.

As her and Aidos took a seat, and made themselves comfortable, the other people around the table did not watch them. Anteros and Amelia had already returned, smiling softly to each other as they sat side by side in the seats saved for them. They had arrived second, after Zelos and Ophelia, who did not come in smiling and together. He let her in before him, closing the door as they entered but still following her to their assigned seats. They didn't look happy. Ophelia didn't look pleased. Zelos, on the other hand, looked simple and satisfied. Perhaps he had already made his decision.

But as Evelyn sat down, looking around, she realized that Sooyung and Elios had yet to return. They were late, and that wasn't the best start, as dinner was almost over.

She forgot about it, listening to the chattering conversation and picking at the veal and potatoes in front of her.

–

Two minutes after Evelyn and Aidos entered, Sooyung came stumbling into the hall, Elios not far behind. They were laughing, and it was obscenely obvious what they had been up to. Sooyung's hair was tangled, and it had been tossed behind her shoulder to hide the matted, sweat-ridden section at the back of her head. She had cleaned up nicely, however, and the only thing particularly peculiar was her bleached hair with a bit of bed-head. Elios always looked rugged, but it was a good look for him. His hair was tousled over his mask, some tucked beneath it (Atticus tenses as he saw this, hoping Elios had not removed it) and his eyes were dark beneath the windows in his mask.

Eyes were on them as they sat down, Sooyung next to Anteros and Elios next to Athena. To cover up the abrupt entrance, however, conversation continued and the room was soon the opposite of silent.

The dinner was spectacular. Sooyung downed her meal in moments, as her previous actions had made her particularly hungry. They laughed together, still.

"She needs to keep it in her pants," Ophelia whispered, hands in her lap as she leaned slightly towards Adella on her right.

Adella was in the middle of chewing the saltiest olive she had ever eaten. She made a made, and turned to Ophelia. "Pardon?"

"That one," Ophelia gestured with her thin, pale finger, a ring gracing the knuckle with silver. It had been a gift from her mother years ago. "The one with the bleached hair. She obviously found someway to get Aidos into her room, alone. If she doesn't want to get kicked out, then she should probably refrain from sleeping around."

Adella swallowed her olive. "You mean Peitho?"

Ophelia rolled her eyes. "Yes. Sure." Ophelia wasn't sure how she was going to get used to these titles. She wanted to know the other girls' names to really get to know them, btu she also knew that titles were just titles. You had to work for where you wanted to go, and where she wanted to go was up, so Ophelia would have to take on this different persona and deal with the shit she was dealt.

"I think that's just who she is, actually. Maybe its who she's always been."

"A whore?" Ophelia retorted, and Adella recoiled into her seat, popping another olive into her mouth. They were salty, but she couldn't get enough of them.

Across the table, Athena de la Roche leaned over to Elios and nudged his arm. "Aren't you going to eat your dinner? I thought you'd be hungry after your ... workout."

Elios gave her the eye, almost glaring at her yet his intentions were less than cruel. She held her stance, shrugging as she went back to finishing her own dinner. She was stabbing individual peas and placing them on her tongue, then popping them in her mouth. One by one and gradually neared the end of her evening meal.

"I'm not very hungry. I never am." Elios replied with an excuse, lifting a fork and poking the veal with the prong. "And anyways ... The meals here aren't very appealing. I've had better."

Athena chuckled, popping another pea into her mouth and then setting sound the fork. She swallowed a gulp of her ice-cold water and said, "Really? I would have thought that you'd enjoy the food you've eaten your entire life." She had a plan. The men surely weren't as intelligent as –

"Don't even try me, lady." She looked up at his vibrant green eyes through his mask, setting down her drink with a shrug.

"You at least have to give me the credit for trying. It was a sly move – I almost had you." She sat back and crossed her arms.

Elios laughed quietly. "Fine. But you didn't 'almost have me'. I'm smarter than you think."

"I didn't know that criminals were smart," she responded. He chuckled once more.

"They aren't."

She gasped, "Oh! So you aren't the criminal. How reassuring."

He didn't respond, and she watched him for a moment as he stared reluctantly at the food on his plate. It was as if the food had done something terrible to him. "It wouldn't kill you to take a bite, would it?"

Elios shook his head. "No. I just don't feel like eating. It's been a stressful week and I'm just not hungry."

"Okay, but don't come crying to me when you're dying of hunger," Athena concluded, shrugging her shoulders and taking the last pea from her plate with two fingers. She plopped it into her mouth, finding Elios staring at her quizzically. "What?"

"You're a bit odd, aren't you?"

She stuck up her nose in mock offence. "And why is that?"

Once again, Elios didn't respond, but as their eyes met they both smiled.

A booming voice rose above the dulling conversation in the hall, and all eyes were on Atticus as he stood, towering over the table and chair. His meal was barely touched, similar to the plates of the other Moirai. They did not need to eat. Immortality brought on no hunger.

"All quiet, please." He raised a hand and everyone was instantly quiet. "I have some topics of importance to discuss with you. If you would please remain in your seats until I am finished, we may all return safely to our rooms. In just a few minutes."

There were no voices, and only nods. Athena looked over at Elios, and she could tell he was thinking hard about something. He was bouncing his knee, and his hands were clasped tightly. Her eyes moved to each the other Fier, finding them each in a similar situation, aside from Zelos. Zelos was calm, collected, and he even wore a soft smile. Athena frowned, wondering what was going to happen, if anything.

"You are all very special, ladies. You are unique." Chins lifted in pride, and some eyes turned away with a blushing cheek. "During your lifetime, be it when you were a child or closer to adulthood, you did something remarkable – something never before seen during this timeline. Every human has a string of Fate, the colour of chocolate. A normal string would appear something like a string you would use to tie together two sticks. Brown, kept together by the magic of fate. However, you have each a different string, even though you are human." Confused glances began to exchange around the room. The girls tried to read each other's expressions to see if anyone else was aware of tstrings are white because at one point in your life you had the power to go against your fate."

Yaelis shot a glance at Rosalie, who was biting her lip with anticipation. Perhaps the illegal history books she had found weren't wrong after all. Things were starting to add up, and something fishy was going on.

"You erased the fate set out for you, and that is why you were chosen to compete in this Selection. We believed your situation would enhance the possibility of true love for the Prince. But there are exceptions." His expression turned dark. "You are, of course, to fall in love. You have no idea which of the Fier is the Prince, so you must take your chances. With no fate, there is nothing certain for any of you." The girls began to stir as his voice grew deep and guttural. "Should you fall in love with the Prince, you will live a life of endless love and riches, and will forever be showered in grace and adoration by all. Should you fall in love with one of the other Fier, say the guard, the servant, or even the criminal ... You will be killed."

The room erupted in gasps, hands clapped over mouths, and Adella even recoiled in her chair and made a sound like she was a kicked puppy.

"What?" Yaelis stood, and no one tried to stop her.

"Without a fate you have no place in this society or on this island. You are uncontrollable, which means destruction for the basic pillars of –"

"No! I will not stand for this –"

"Then sit," Atticus said calmly, but his tone was sinister.

Yaelis was boiling in her place. "This is inhumane –"

"We aren't human, dear." Claude stood, his sweet exterior falling down as a black fog began to form in the room. Girls lifted their feet from the ground, and the Fier stood intimidatingly along with Lawrence to join the Moirai. "We are much more than that."

With a snap of his fingers a puff of black smoke brought to the room a figure dressed in a dirty white gown, wrists bound to a pole dug into the tile, cracking the marble surface and entering the ground below. She had dark hair, almost black, and she hung tiredly from the post, her wrists bruised from the chains. When she lifted her head, her eyes were entirely white, and the girls all returned her gaping expression as she cried out.

"What is this? What are you doing?" she exploded, hissing at Atticus. "You ... I told you this would not work!"

"Hush!" Atticus waved a hand in her direction and the metal. chains lifted her to her feet. She exclaimed in pain, but he ignored her plea. "You ..." He pointed to Yaelis.

"No ... This is insane. I'm getting out of here!" She turned and bolted across the room, her heels slipping on the marble ground.

Atticus waved another hand to the woman at the pole and cried, "Morta! Now!"

The woman seemed like she knew what was at stake, so she forced her hands, bound together, forward, and in place of thin air appeared a long, white string hanging from a spindle, the end now in Morta's hands. With a cry of reluctance she flicked her long, shimmering nail over the edge of the string, and it sliced clean in half.

Half of the girls watched as the string fell to the ground, turning to ash. They watched as the woman disappeared and Atticus stood, pleased with himself. The other half of the girls watched as Yaelis slumped to the ground, lifeless just inches from the door that was her exit. Her body turned pale, and the life drained from her eyes and into the air around them.

Then all eyes were once again on Atticus.

"Return to your rooms with the lead of your guards. Prepare for tomorrow. We will having our first round of lessons. You will learn the history of the palace and this Kingdom, and will afterwards be tested. There is a library with the necessary history texts in the library of your chambers, so feel free to indulge yourself prematurely to the knowledge you will need for tomorrow." No one said a word as the guards came into the room and stood with the girls, taking their arms to lead them away.

They were almost out the door when – "And another thing!"

The ladies turned their heads.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening. This has been a demonstration of our power, and we hope you take it into consideration." All three Moirai spoke at the same time, the Fier filing out the opposite door before them. The darkness began to grow frightening, and to all the girls, the world just got that much smaller, and that much more threatening.

They were in for quite the ride.

–

 **Thanks for reading! If there are any major errors please tell me, but spelling and grammar is just a revisionary mistake so please ignore my inability to go over my work at 1:00 in the morning. Love all of you for reading so fervently, and make sure to complete the review with all parts I mentioned at the tip!**

 **Love,**

 **Elle.**


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